


Mister Sandman, Bring Me A Dream

by Hino



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: A nice fluff piece, Gen, I wanted an excuse to imagine TKB looking after a younger Ryou, Set inside the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hino/pseuds/Hino
Summary: He woke in warm desert sand, and under warm Egypt sun.And above him stood a young Thief King, eager to learn all about the Host of the Ring.





	

The sand was warm beneath his head, clinging to the strands of his hair and making its way down the collar of his shirt. Ryou didn’t know how he’d gotten to this sandy place, or why he instinctively knew it was sand, but he wasn’t about to argue. This place felt comfortable and soft, and he was finding himself at a loss for those places these days.

It took a considerable amount of time for him to even try to open his eyes. If this was a dream, then it would probably wake him up, and Ryou wanted to cling to this security for as long as he could. If it wasn’t a dream, there was probably something dangerous to follow, and he’d put that off for as long as he could. He didn’t even stir as the breeze picked up, nor when the sound of sand crunching underfoot managed to reach his ears.

 

A shadow settled over Ryou’s face, blocking out the gentle light that had kept the cold away. It made him stir, groaning softly at the loss.

_“I know you’re not sleeping,”_ spoke a voice, like his but also not. It sounded strange, like there was a disconnect between his words and their meaning. _“Wake up, Host of the Ring.”_

Ryou opened his eyes, turning his gaze to the stranger looming over him. He looked young, skin dark and grin wide. A scar ran down his face, pale against his tan face. Whoever this was, it seemed like they knew him, and knew of his purpose. People didn’t just call him ‘Host of the Ring’ as some casual nickname. “Who...”

The man, who had been kneeling beside Ryou, sat down on the sand. Crossing his legs and resting his chin in the palm of his hand made him less threatening, and Ryou was grateful for that. With a soft moan, he forced himself to sit up, noting offhandedly that the newcomer was taller than him. Now he was sitting up and his eyes had adjusted to the light, he could see the stranger’s clothes. A red cloak covered his body, layered atop a smaller cream robe with a matching belt, although both left the man’s chest open. Something akin to a skirt covered his lower half, although the colour kept changing every time Ryou blinked. Sometimes it was purple, other times it was the same cream as the robe. _“I’m the Thief King,”_ stated the stranger, startling Ryou out of his little analysis.

“I’m Ryou Bakura,” he answered, extending a hand. He noted, as he offered a handshake to the Thief King, that he wasn’t wearing his pajamas. Instead, he was wearing a dress shirt. A look down at himself showed he was wearing a waistcoat and dress pants, along with some rather nice brown shoes. This definitely wasn’t what he’d fallen asleep wearing.

_“Well then, Little Ryou,”_ the Thief King sighed, smiling as he ruffled the other’s hair, _“It is a pleasure to meet you. Although, I suspect you don’t always look so young.”_

His words made Ryou pause, going through his thoughts. The last time he’d worn this outfit had been before his father went to Egypt. But that was years ago, meaning...  
“Is this a dream?” came the hesitant question, watching the Thief King carefully. If it was, then there was nothing to fear. If not, then there was everything to fear. Ryou was done with ancient magic. It had possessed him, moved him against his will, if it was turning him into a child then he was going to strangle the Spirit with his own tiny hands.

The Thief King merely shrugged. _“It is only part of a dream,”_ he answered, brushing a stray hair away from Ryou’s face. _“Right now you are sleeping, but the events happening are very real.”_

Ryou took the information in, processing it slowly and letting it sit. The next words he spoke were chosen carefully. “If this is a dream, yet real, then are you from the Ring?”

A smile spread across the Thief King’s face. _“It seems the Spirit was not wrong about you. Clever child. Come, let us walk.”_ Without any effort, the Thief King stood, offering Ryou a hand. Hesitantly, the child took it, feeling the rough skin of the other. He got to his feet and clung tightly to the other, although he didn’t know why, and let the man guide him into the endless sands.

 

There was nothing for miles around, but Ryou didn’t feel lost. In fact, he felt like he was at home, safe with the Thief King holding his hand. The man towered above him, hammering in the fact that while he was here, Ryou was merely a child. It didn’t bother him too much, finding some tiny glee in being protected and led by an adult. It was the support he’d never received as a child, and he was going to savour the feeling for as long as he could.

Still, he couldn’t help but be curious. “Why am I a child?”

_“Emotionally?”_ asked the Thief King with a grin. Ryou rolled his eyes. _“Because you are young. Your soul is still new to this earth. Your body may be a reincarnation, but your mind is fresh. I am old, wise beyond my years. I have the Spirit to thank for that.”_

“Is he here?” Ryou’s grip on the Thief King’s hand grew tight. His shoulders raised, and he shuffled closer to the taller man. Fear had crept in, and while he managed to keep it at bay, or masked, here it seemed more raw.

The Thief King threw his head back as he laughed. _“He is everywhere, Little Host. He is letting us speak. He is bridging our souls. Without him, we would never meet.”_

“Then who are you to him?” Ryou asked, still fearful, but at ease with the Thief King. “The Spirit is rather picky about who he cooperates, let alone befriends and tolerates.”

_“We are more than friends. We are closer than even you.”_ Thief King let his face drop into an expression of calm, seeming lost in his memories. _“Just as the Spirit is ‘The Other You’, I would call him ‘The Other Me’.”_

“So, you are also the Host of the Ring?” Ryou looked up at Thief King with wide eyes. “I know there were Hosts before me but, it just sounds so weird. To know that the Spirit was wreaking havoc long before me...”

_“I was the only other Host. Thousands of years ago, back in Egypt, I served him. He’s the Dark Lord Zorc, did you know?”_ He asked, finding comfort when Ryou nodded. _“Well, Zorc placed some of his soul inside the Ring, so when the Dark Lord sacrificed my body, seeing no use left for me, I merged with the Item.”_

“Is that why you sound so different? Why your words make no sense, and yet I understand them?”

_“The Spirit is acting as translator. Strange, given his usual disinterest in us both, but perhaps he’s curious what secrets we’ll spill.”_ Thief King grinned, taking a sharp turn and pulling Ryou with him. _“Let us take advantage of his generosity.”_

 

“Taking advantage” apparently meant to find an oasis and sit down. The water was cool on their feet, and although the weather here wasn’t extreme, Ryou still found comfort in stripping off his formal shoes and rolling up his neat pants to dip his feet. With the calm water came calm conversation. Thief King spoke with a charm that Ryou only knew the Spirit to have, and it was refreshing to hear kind words, as opposed to thin compliments and sharp insults.

Thief King was young. Sixteen at the time of his imprisonment. He lived in a town called Kul Elna, that had been attacked by the Pharaoh’s men. The people had been boiled and used in ancient magic that created the Millennium Items. Ryou flinched at the gruesome details, but Thief King spoke like they didn’t bother him at all.

“Aren’t you angry?” Ryou asked, looking up at the Egyptian beside him.

_“I have long passed anger,”_ he answered. _“Although the Spirit seems to still cling to that revenge. I know that my actions will not bring Kul Elna pride, nor will it avenge my family, but the Spirit and Zorc seem to think so, and so I am forced into agreeing.”_

As he continued, more details made themselves clear. He grew up alone, save a beast named Diabound who protected him until the end. The spirits of Kul Elna had done their best to keep him safe, but they had found their revenge, and left the Thief King alone. Then Zorc had ended his short life, and he’d lived in the Ring with the shard of the Dark Lord.

 

Ryou then opened up about his life, although he thought it far less interesting. He spoke of his family, of how his sister and mother passed away in a car accident. How his father was never home, and how he remembered two different people acting as his father, although he couldn’t explain why. He spoke of how he moved schools due to the Ring’s powers, and how the Host of the Puzzle was his friend.

_“He knows of the Spirit, and still trusts you?”_ asked the Thief King with surprise.

“He trusts me, but not the Spirit. If things get too intense, he knows I will be there to stop it.” A confident smile spread on his face, and the Thief King laughed, pulling Ryou in for a bonecrushing hug. It was a foreign experience, but Ryou clung to the other, trying his hardest to return it. “Don’t you believe me?”

_“You remind me of myself, full of confidence. Except, I have faith that you will complete your mission.”_ The hug was released, and Thief King smiled down on the Brit. _“Come, let us abandon these dreary conversations. This might be the only time we meet!”_

 

True to his words, the dreariness was abandoned. From somewhere within the Thief King’s coat, he withdrew a pack of playing cards. Apparently the Spirit had left him with it once, and he’d never quite figured out how to use them.

Ryou introduced him to ‘Snap’ and ‘Go Fish’, gently guiding the Thief through it all. As they played, the sun began to set, yet neither of them stopped. As it turns out, the Thief King didn’t know how to read, leading to an impromptu English lesson. The Spirit was at least kind enough to turn off his instant translations, allowing the Thief King to pick up basic numbers. In return, Ryou found himself learning some Old Egyptian. He had a miniscule grasp on the language from his father’s years spent in Egypt, but it never went any further than polite greetings and being able to name animals.

With the moon high in the sky, they continued their card game. Thief King was slowly picking up English, while Ryou refined his Arabic and tested Old Egyptian. Their conversation was slow, with the Egyptian stumbling over basic English like “Is this right?” and Ryou struggling to say more complex things like “The desert looks beautiful tonight, especially the moon.”

_“Your Arabic is good,”_ the Thief King said, setting down a card and then claiming the pile with an enthusiastic, if slightly butchered pronunciation of ‘Snap!’ _“And your Egyptian is too.”_  
To him, it was infinitely amusing to watch this small child speak, trying so desperately to not only wrap his tongue around the more modern Arabic that the Spirit had learnt and pressed into the Thief King’s mind, but to also hear him stumble over a language long dead. It was as if the child was wise beyond his years, youthful appearance betraying his vast knowledge.

The child blushed. “I am trying hard,” he answered, words shaking but still keeping their meaning. It only made the Thief King smile, finding it adorable.

_“I believe you,”_ answered the Thief, ruffling the Brit’s hair. It was like having a little brother, and silently, the Thief King asked the Spirit for more time. The moon, which had been slowly dipping towards the horizon, shot back into the middle of the sky. The Thief smiled.

 

The rest of the night crawled by slowly, yet Ryou didn’t seem to notice. Only the Thief did, glancing to the sky every few hours, only to see the moon creep across the sky. It was taking its time, and the Egyptian was grateful.

By the time it did set, Ryou was exhausted. Two different forms of Arabic had been shoved into his head, along with a handful of games that the Thief King had come across in his many years. He dragged his sleepy body towards the Thief King, and let the man pull him into his lap. The sand was still warm, and it helped lull Ryou into the sleepy void he’d been trying to avoid.

_“It is time for me to leave, Host of the Ring. Time for the sun to rise again.”_ The Thief King mumbled, brushing some sand out of Ryou’s hair. 

“Will we meet again?” Ryou asked, words slurred as he tried to stay awake for a response. With a laugh, the Thief King patted his head, pushing the boy closer to rest. “I want to see you again.”

_“Perhaps if the Spirit wills it,”_ was the best answer the Thief could give, eyes on the horizon where the moon was fading. _“But even still, I am glad we met at all.”_

There was an attempted response, but it was a mumble. The Spirit had given up in his translations, and the Thief King could only sit and sigh, watching the young soul rest in his lap. “Host of the Ring, Ryou Bakura, I wish you all the best.”

Carefully, he removed his cloak. He would miss the red fabric, but if he knew the Spirit and the Ring at all, he’d find himself with another soon enough. Carefully, he draped it over Ryou, tucking it around the boy to keep him warm and safe. With it snugly wrapped around him, the Thief King turned his attention to the water of the oasis, watching the sunrise slowly colour the water, changing the blue shimmer into soft red and gold.

And like that, the sand fell away, the sky faded, and the souls left for their appropriate places.

 

Ryou woke slowly, surprised and mildly disappointed to find himself in his bed. He remembered his dream of Egyptian sands and Thief Kings, of Arabic and games. The light coming through his apartment window was too bright, unlike the gentle desert sun, and he took his time adjusting to it.

With a lack of energy reserved for someone who’s slept in and remembered the world exists, he kicked off the covers. His feet were free, but the rest of his body wasn’t, confusing his sleep-addled brain. Forcing himself to sit up, Ryou looked at what was covering him, taking a moment to process what he was looking at.

The Thief King’s cloak.

A smile crept onto the Brit’s face as he pulled the material close. It was soft like the Egyptian sands, and warm like the sun.

“It was only part of a dream,” Ryou mumbled with a grin, remembering the Thief King’s words. Grabbing the Ring, he drew it up to eye level and spoke with a voice of utmost gratitude. “Thank you Spirit.”

 

He kept the cloak on all day, only taking it off to shower. It had turned out that the cloak was not the only outfit brought over from the dream. His waistcoat and dressclothes had followed, although Ryou was not as fond of them. Wearing the cloak kept him warm like the sand and sun had, despite the fact it was the middle of winter.

When the sun had dipped over the horizon and the evening gloom had set in, Ryou settled down on the couch. The winter always made him tired, and he found himself drifting closer to sleep with each passing second. 

He felt himself falling as sleep engulfed him, and he felt himself land on warm desert sand.

 

From above him, he heard a voice like his but also not.  
 _“Welcome back, Host of the Ring.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Yunnie for being my beta
> 
> Honestly I was just gonna paste the entire "Mr Sandman" lyrics for the title but that'd be annoying.  
> I just wanted more TKB and Ryou interactions, and so this came about. Hopefully it's not awful.


End file.
